by NC Marshall
“Oh, I hope not, bloody horrible things,” he states, looking back over my shoulder into the garden, as if trying to hunt my imaginary rodent. He soon gives up, quickly turning his attention to the oven and runs to turn down the heat on the pan, water now starting to bubble ferociously over onto the hob. I can’t tell him the truth—that I’d just seen my dead sister’s ghost. He has enough on his plate putting up with my dreams, never mind this too. I change the subject and return to cooking dinner, as if nothing had ever happened.
*
Later that night, I stay up watching late night television. Dan has been in bed asleep for a few hours, but I haven’t even attempted trying to join him. He had asked me if I was okay, said I didn’t look too well. I’d lied in my response and told him I had morning sickness. In truth, I know full well that every time I close my eyes, I’ll see her face. I can see it now. She didn’t look like Jess, she’d looked scared and lost. And very real. Why is she here? What does she want?
Mindlessly, I start to tidy up. I move some magazines that I had been reading earlier and fold them, neatly placing them in a waiting room style fan on the coffee table. Josh has left a few toy cars lined up on the window sill. I scoop them up and put them neatly into his toy box in the corner of the room. Then I think of Jess, which prompts me to take them back out and place them back in the position I had taken them from. I then go on to retrieve the magazines, setting some of them open on the sofa and mess up the pattern of the remaining few on the table. New Year’s resolution Nat, stop being so bloody pedantic. Life is too short.
I go to the kitchen and peer out the patio door towards where Jess was standing earlier. The land is empty, with only the thin layer of frost sparkling in the moonlight to illuminate the garden. Maybe I imagined it. I switch off the light, and head to bed, and I soon fall into another restless sleep.
*
It’s Christmas Day, and we’re all at Mum’s house. It’s just the four of us this year. It feels strange not having Ryan, Lola and Liam here. It’s been snowing overnight, and we’ve been lucky enough to wake this morning to a white Christmas, the first one that we have had in years. The view from the house is stunning; freshly fallen snow surrounds the iced lake and creates a greeting card type scene.
Although still a little disappointed that he can’t use his new bike from Santa yet, Josh is making the most of the weather and is currently outside with Dan building a huge snowman. It has a leftover carrot from our lunch as a nose and one of Dad’s old scarfs draped around its neck. His old trilby hat sits proudly on its head. He’d even named him Thomas, which had been my dad’s name.
After helping Mum clean up after lunch, I decide to go for a walk. It’s too picturesque outside to sit all day indoors, and I could do with some fresh air. I tell Dan I’m heading out. He doesn’t ask if I want any company, as if he knows I am ready for some alone time.
I head into the village centre. It seems strange seeing it so deserted. All the shops are closed and securely locked for the holidays. There is no one in sight apart from a man and his son who I can see sledging along the main street. I pass over the bridge and walk a further five minutes before the church spire comes into view, and I continue towards it.
The chapel is deceptively large inside; from the outside you would never guess it would be so spacious. There’s nobody here apart from one lady and Father Dempsey, who is busy lighting candles at the foot of the altar. His long gown trails the red carpet which decorates the church aisle.
I’ve known Patrick Dempsey all my life. He had baptized all three of us as babies, and had married Jess and Matt. As far as I am aware, Ryan and Lola are meeting up with him soon to plan their own wedding. He looks up as he sees me enter the church and comes towards me with open arms.
“Nat, Merry Christmas,” he says, taking my hand and holding it tenderly in his. He drapes the other one around my shoulder, as he guides me further towards the altar. “If you’re here for the evening service you’re a little early,” he announces, releasing his grip and returning to light the remainder of candles. He’s referring to the carol service that’s held in the church every year on Christmas Day. Typically we would attend, but I’d totally forgotten about it, and assume Mum must have too.
“Oh no,” I say, not wanting to offend him that the carol service had completely slipped my mind. “Just out for a walk and I thought I’d pop in. I’ve left the family at home under Josh’s command, building snowmen.”
Father Dempsey smiles. “Ah well, it’s lovely to see you, please tell your mum I’m asking after her, and wish your family a Merry Christmas from me.” With one last grin, he turns and heads for a door at the far left side of the altar.
“I will do that,” I reply warmly. “Enjoy the rest of your Christmas, Father.” My voice echoes loudly, prompting me to look around the church that is now entirely empty. The old lady I had seen sitting on the front row when I first arrived has now gone.
I move to the alter and stop in front of the large pillar candles which stand lit on tall metal candlesticks. I feel their warmth hitting my cheeks and instantly thawing the cold. I can smell the familiar scent of the beeswax used to polish the church pews, and the perfumed fragrance of fresh flowers that stand in vases sporadically dotting the room. I can’t come in here anymore without remembering Jess’s funeral. In my mind, I can see her coffin which had sat in the exact spot where I am now standing. I sigh as a tear escapes and falls down my cheek, dropping silently to the floor below me. When will this pain end, will it ever end?
Suddenly, a cool gust of wind passes me. Two of the candles in front of me flicker briefly, then go out, creating a small flow of grey smoke that rises gracefully into the air. Something feels familiar. I detect goose pimples rising on my arms underneath my heavy layers. She’s here. I can feel her.
As I turn to face the large arched wooden doors on the opposite side of the church aisle, I see her. She sits on the back row of pews, with her head down. I can see her mouth moving as if she’s praying. Jess wasn’t religious, but today she holds a red leather-bound bible on her lap. Her long hair hangs limply on her shoulders, hiding the rest of her face.
Once again, I’m frozen; transfixed on her image in front of me, just as I had been that night in my garden, but I don’t feel scared, not this time. She moves her head to slowly look at me. She has the same lost look in her eyes as I saw in them the last time, dull and lifeless. She slowly stands, walks a few steps before turning to look at me, then continues through the open church doors. She wants me to follow her. I start to jog in the direction she is heading.
“Jess, wait!” I shout desperately. She doesn’t stop. Once outside, I stand still in the church grounds, looking for her, but I can’t see her. She’s vanished.
It’s late afternoon now and starting to get dark. The fluffy snow is beginning to freeze over, making the pavement slippery under my feet as I walk. The only light is shining out from the large arched church windows, which throw a yellow tint across the snow-filled grounds of the churchyard.
Suddenly, I spot her again. She’s ahead of me, walking away from the church, her long skirt swaying in the breeze as she moves. I run trying to catch her, but no matter how fast I go she continues to remain ahead. I follow her through a large iron gate into the graveyard, and past rows of old headstones and overgrown graves towards a newer part of the cemetery.
I'm out of breath by the time I reach her grave. I knew this was where she was heading, I could feel it, the same way as I can now feel that she isn’t here anymore. She’s gone.
I bend over to catch my breath, then look up at the fresh flowers placed against the headstone bearing her name. As my eyes dart back and forth, adjusting to the darkness, a shadow moves across the marble surface of the tombstone. There’s someone here. As I get closer, I can see a man’s outline.
In the dim light, all I can make out is a vague silhouette. He has a tall frame and broad shoulders. He stands hunched over the grave, staring at it, holding
a single red rose which he places down on the white snow to accompany the flowers already resting there. Then he gently touches the golden lettering of my sister’s name with his fingertip, tracing the intricately carved epitaph as though it was made of precious stones. I watch him and remain silent. I know who he is; I don’t even need to ask him. He must hear the snow crunching under my boots, as he turns quickly. He seems startled by my arrival. I get closer and eventually come to a halt in front of him. I take a deep breath before I speak.
“Hi, Adam,” I say.
Chapter 26
Jess
I’ve been back in England over six months now, and I have cried myself to sleep nearly every night; over Dad, over Matt, over Adam, over myself or maybe over all of the above. It’s only recently that the tears have started to dry up, and I’m slowly coming to terms with things.
Adam’s calls and texts have dwindled now, too. When I first returned, he was texting constantly to check up on me, desperately pleading with me to return to Australia. But I can’t. I’ve come to the conclusion now that my family are the most important thing in my life and a constancy I now can’t be without. We’ve been through hell and back recently, and it’s the love and strength we have when we’re together that has gotten us through.
I look back to my life in Australia as I would a dream; perfect, faultless and not real. I realise now how foolish I had been in marrying Adam. I love him, I probably always will, and I know that staying here has broken his heart and he will never forgive me. But it’s the way things were meant to turn out. It’s what Dad would have wanted.
I’ve been living back with Mum for a while until I can find my own place. We’re finding comfort in each other’s company and building up a relationship that we’ve never really had. I’ve recently been offered an excellent job writing for a fashion magazine. It’s the job of my dreams, and I can’t wait to get stuck in.
Matt, as always, has been by my side since the day I bumped into him at the hospital. He’s been my rock through the heart-wrenching grief that I’ve suffered through losing Dad, always having a shoulder to cry on, someone to talk to and vent off my frustrations. I can’t help feeling that somehow Dad’s death was my fault. I’d had a feeling that whenever I spoke to him from Australia, he could sense I was lying to him. I think the stress of trying to figure out what I was hiding somehow affected his body, his heart and finally his mind.
I still haven’t told anyone about Adam. The timing has never been right. Everyone is still so upset about Dad anyway, they don’t need to know, not now. It’s not like he’s going to show up at my front door. He would never come uninvited, and far too much keeps him in Australia, mainly his mum, who needs his help with his dad’s health diminishing. His sister is in the process of moving to England, so she has no other family apart from her son.
Adam knows about my friendship with Matt. He’d listened to most of our conversations when I’d called him from Australia. I always talked about him, and although he never admitted to it, I’m sure he was always a little bit jealous of this man who knew me like the back of his own hand. Adam would never be prepared to play second best. I know that for sure.
Matt and I have been spending a lot of time together. I suppose you could say we are inseparable at the moment, just like we used to be as kids. When he asked me out on an official date last week, I said yes. When he leant in to kiss me at the end of the night, I hadn’t backed away, and it didn’t feel disgusting or strange like I always imagined it would. Instead, it felt soft, gentle and natural. It’s what Dad would have wanted.
I miss Adam and I miss Australia. I would love nothing more than to slip off my sandals and feel the warm sand of Cottesloe beach between my toes. To feel the hot midday sunshine on my bare skin, then the stir of the fresh afternoon breeze. I miss the little things, too. The faint sound of the ocean from the open window in Adam’s apartment, the city coming into view on the descent down from the hills where our new apartment was situated. The sound of kookaburras coming from the trees in our small backyard, or sitting outside the local pub on a balmy summer’s evening with all our friends.
But what I miss most is that view from the park at dusk that made all my worries disappear, and the way I felt while I was there—alive. I need to let that life leave my mind. I no longer deserve it. So, I’m going to let the memories of Australia’s distant shores wash away, and with them I hope that the love I have for Adam will slowly start to disintegrate, too. This is where I’m meant to be. It’s what Dad would have wanted.
Chapter 27
I stand unmoving, looking at Adam, who is still at Jess’s grave. It’s strange. He doesn’t look like I thought he would. I had imagined him to look like Sarah but they look nothing alike, you wouldn’t even guess they were brother and sister. However, I can see immediately what attracted Jess to him. He’s incredibly handsome, there’s no denying that; his short hair is blonde and has a slight curl to it, his build is tall, broad and muscular. His skin is a golden shade of brown. Even in the dark shadows I can make out that his eyes are the brightest, most intense shade of green I think I’ve ever seen. He wears deep blue denim jeans and a short black jacket, his hands are buried deep in his pockets. I can see his breath in the freezing air as he starts to speak.
“Are you Nat?” His voice is thick and smooth, his accent broad.
I nod, looking him in the eyes, I let my vision adjust further to the darkness, and only now see that his own eyes are glistening with tears.
“Yes, you must be Adam?” It seems a pointless question to ask, as I already know he is, but I’m not sure what else to say.
He looks off into the distance and then back to me. “This isn’t really how I pictured us meeting. I was going to give you a call later in the week. Sarah passed your number on to me.”
I nod, feeling awkward. Although I had imagined this meeting in my head, the reality was different, so much harder, so much more surreal. I can’t seem to pull my eyes away from him. He catches me staring.
“What's wrong?” he asks, glancing behind him, as if looking to see what I find so interesting.
“Sorry, nothing, you're just not what I expected,” I say, embarrassed.
“What were you expecting?” he says, then pauses, considering. “Don't tell me... you imagined a stereotypical surfer dude to pull up in a ute, with a koala on the back seat and a surfboard under my arm, right?” he jokes. “Actually, I do have a ute back at home, but I’ve always been a crappy surfer, and I’m not the biggest fan of koalas. They stink.”
I can't help but laugh, already something about him makes me soften around the edges. I have no doubt that most women would become nothing but putty in his hands. I suddenly remember why I’m here, and stop chuckling abruptly.
Adam sighs, looking back at Jess’s grave, directly behind him.
“I’m so sorry about the accident,” he says, his tone now deadly serious. “I had no idea until Sarah called me. I was back in Australia by then and...”
“Why didn’t my sister tell me that you and she were together when she travelled to Australia, that you two got married?” I ask, cutting Adam off mid-sentence. My voice sounds hard and unsympathetic, but I don’t care. Adam has a lot of explaining to do, so he needs to start doing it, and fast.
“Should we go inside?” He points to the church that I have just left. There’s a small adjoining room that I know will be empty today, so I agree. Normally I would be reluctant to follow a complete stranger anywhere, but I have to remind myself that this man isn’t a stranger; he was my sister’s husband.
We stay silent until we get back to the church. As we walk away from Jess’s graveside, I have a strange feeling that someone is watching us. The feeling is so intense that I actually turn around, half expecting to see Dan and Josh there. I shrug the feeling off, and pull my phone from my pocket. I should call Dan, he will start to worry if I’m not home soon. I call him and make up an excuse, that I have decided to stay and watch some of the carol se
rvice at the church. Dan doesn’t even question my lies, and tells me that he and Josh have settled down with Mum to watch a film on television. As I hang up, the phone slips from my gloved hand and lands in the thick snow near Adam’s feet. He swoops down to quickly pick it up and pauses briefly, looking at the wet screen, before he wipes it off on his coat sleeve and gives it back to me.
As we reach the church, Adam swings open the heavy oak door and holds it for me to enter. I head through a small corridor to the adjoining room of the chapel. I know the room won’t be used today, so Father Dempsey won’t mind me borrowing it. I walk in slowly and sit down on a plastic chair at the far side of the small room.
The place brings back memories from when Jess and I used to come to Sunday School here. Now it’s just an empty space, used to store tables and chairs for the church hall events. Only an old blackboard on the back wall gives any hint towards its past use.
Adam pulls a chair from the top of a full pile, positioning it next to mine, and sits down so that he’s facing me. I look at his left hand and notice that there’s no wedding band, and feel a small sense of relief wash over me.
“Jeez,” Adam pauses, evidently seeing me in the light for the first time since meeting me. “I’d seen photos of you that Jess showed me back in Australia, but you look even more like her in person,” he says.
I ignore his statement. I’d heard it a million times before. From him, I feel no compliment. I shift uneasily in my chair, trying to find a position to make me feel a little more relaxed, but soon give up and settle on crossing one leg over the other. “Were you and Jess still married when she died?” I ask, just to confirm my assumption.
Adam instinctively moves his right hand to his left, rubbing the place where I suppose a ring would have once been. There’s no mark there to prove it’s only recently been removed. I feel a sense of optimism as he shakes his head.